


The Rocket and the Comet

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-21
Updated: 2007-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby was certain they'd be banned from the Junior Boys camping trip. But they got to go after all. Henry had a way of fixing things with a smile and just the right gleam of innocent sincerity in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rocket and the Comet

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: written for the picfor1000 challenge. Thanks to marinarusalka for the quick beta read and to innie_darling for unlocking this particular plot bunny.

Henry Cobb was built like a string bean, with a big, wide goofy grin and shaggy dark hair. Girls followed him in flocks, showing off, and since there was only one of Henry and a lot of them, Bobby got the overflow benefits.

"You're the rocket hitched to his comet trail," Aunt Becca said. "Oh, make no mistake, you're a rocket," she said. "I'm on to you and your quiet ways."

The angry shout of "Cobb and Singer, my office, now!" from the Vice Principal was so familiar that no one even looked around to put faces to the names anymore. Three years of it at East Central High School and kids just grinned. They knew all about Cobb and Singer.

 _Wonder what they did now?_

 _Didn't you hear? They blew up the toilets in the east hallway._

 _I heard they snuck into the girl's locker room and stole all the clothes._

 _My brother says they got in a fight._

 _What, again?_

 _With other kids, or each other?_

 _Each other this time. Bobby broke Henry's nose._

 _Well what do you know. Didn't think Bobby could fight like that._

Bobby was certain they'd be banned from the Junior Boys camping trip. But they got to go after all. Henry had a way of fixing things with a smile and just the right gleam of innocent sincerity in his eyes.

* * *

The blanket someone had put around his shoulders itched like crazy so he threw it off. He didn't want a blanket anyway, never mind that he was still shaking. Bobby clenched his fists and his teeth, making himself stop. Flashlights bobbed in the darkness, blinking beyond the trees like fireflies. A Park Ranger said something about a bear, but Bobby had seen someone once after they'd been mauled by a bear.

Whatever had done that to Henry's body, that was no bear.

Their campfire was dead embers now and the sticks the guys had used to roast marshmallows earlier were left leaning against the stones. His fingers were still sticky from the marshmallows and pine resin, making it certain that the dirt would cling to his fingers for days. He imagined his Aunt Becca's horror, but stopped because the image of the pain and sympathy that would be in Aunt Becca's eyes when she found out kept pushing away the funnier image of her reaction to dirt.

The headlights of the trucks backlit the woods in blue. Doors slamming, voices, more men in uniform. The other boys had already been sent home.

"Son, you doin' okay?" A tall man with a kind voice, his face hidden beneath the wide brim of his ranger's hat, knelt beside him.

"I'm fine," Bobby said, tugging the brim of his baseball cap more firmly over his own face.

"We need you to stick around a little while longer, we might have some more questions, but then you can go home."

 _Home_ , Bobby thought. Aunt Becca, with her gentle, worn hands, the picture of Uncle Chris who died of a heart attack last year hanging over the mantle.

School, where they'd look at him funny now, like he was a war vet missing an arm, only half of "Cobb and Singer."

How could he just go home after this, like nothing had changed?

He could still see it, the sudden flare of red caught in his flashlight beam, Henry's checked flannel shirt, torn and stained dark and wet. He could see himself, like watching himself in a movie, falling to his knees and damn it to fucking hell, how useless had he been, just _staring_ for what must have been a full five minutes before he before he finally yelled for help, scrambled to his feet, ran back to camp.

"Okay, son?" A note of concern crept into the ranger's voice.

"I said, fine, what, are you deaf?" Bobby kicked at a rotted log lying a few feet away.

* * *

If it hadn't been a bear, then what was it?

After he got home, after Aunt Becca fussed and hugged him tight until he had to push her away or he'd break, he'd start sobbing and not be able to stop, after kids stopped by to say how sorry they were, such a great guy, Henry Cobb, after some of the girls cried on his shoulder and he couldn't even enjoy it --

 _Up yours, Henry._

 _Jerk._

\-- after all that, he had dreams, where he almost saw what killed Henry, but only as a big shadow. Maybe it had long arms or maybe it was thick and furry, like a sasquatch.

Maybe a sasquatch killed Henry?

He got on his bike and went down to the public library, where the librarians knew him by name. They remembered Henry, of course, even though he never set foot in the library unless he had to for a school assignment. Henry always said reading made his feet itch.

They offered him sad smiles, _Oh, honey, we're so sorry._ As he wandered into the stacks, inhaling the familiar musty scent and letting the library air cool him after the heat of the summer afternoon, he remembered sneakers propped up on reading tables, sticky chocolate smears left on pages, disapproving glares, pursed lips. It was funny how they were being so nice to him.

The book he needed had been untouched for so long he had to blow the dust off it, which made him sneeze too loud in the quiet. He didn't bother going to a table, just sat down on the cold linoleum floor and turned over the thick pages. Some of the pictures were old black and white photographs. Some of them were only pencil sketches. On page fifty four he found one of a creature with long limbs and pointed ears and skinny body, head thrown back and mouth open in a fearsome snarl.

A wendigo.

Well, why not.

Because it sure as hell wasn't a bear that killed Henry Cobb.

  
  



End file.
